Friday, May 23, 2008

Don't Laugh: It could happen to YOU.

Well folks, it's happened. Believe it or not, I am now fabulously 21 years old! Well, okay, like...a week ago today. So I'm 21 and 7 days. Anyway, remember that post where I talked about growing up and how at 21 I'd be running low on excuses? Well let me just say, while all of that may still be true, I don't feel any different. I'm thinking I should have known, because really when does any birthday really feel like you're older? Technically, you're only a day older than you were the day before. It's just been a year since that day...the year before. I suppose it's much more mental than anything. Like, it may have only been one more day, but it was also the day that I became 21. I was thinking about it, and I realized that sometimes the dignity and grace that come with "growing up" isn't always optional.

Yes, that means I have an anecdote. Are you ready for this? And I'll preface it - this didn't happen to me after 21...but come on, 20 is still pretty "adult", right? Okay, now it's time to casually transition from "I'm 21! Huzzah!" to "Can you believe this happened? Me either!"

So this particular incident happened at work. I got to work, all was well. In fact, I was bookin' it pretty well that night (I change the "on sale for ___" signs) and decided I had enough time to make a potty break. I don't think it's necessary to go into that except to say that that too went fine. In fact, I was unaware that there was an issue until...oh...I don't know, about twenty minutes later. Again, since I was making good time, I paused at the shoe department to quickly browse through the clearance shoes. I don't remember what I found, but I know I tried one on because I had to track down a mirror. Can't buy shoes without seeing how they look on ya, right? So there I am, with my one black shoe and my one try-on shoe, and I turn to get a profile view and that's when I see it.

The toilet paper.

No, not stuck to the bottom of my shoe, that would be too normal.

No, this particular length of toilet paper is tucked in the back of my pants.

IN THE BACK OF MY PANTS.

I didn't even know what to say. It was a good four squares long-- don't ask me how that happened-- and centered pretty flawlessly. 

So I'm busy thanking my lucky stars that I decided to me a not-so-model employee by perusing the shoes when I start to think back on how long it had been since I went to the restroom. That's when I realize it was at least fifteen minutes, probably more like twenty. Then I realize that right before I hit the shoe department, I had a conversation with one of my co-workers. And it hits me. Not only did I have a lengthy piece of toilet paper stuck in the back of my pants, but also that the chances that someone (probably multiple someones) saw it --and didn't say anything-- are pretty darn high.

Wow.

So, I told that story to some of my friends because I mean really, that's a pretty good story. How many people can tell that story? Sure, stuck to the shoe is most common, and maybe even in the pants isn't too rare, but at work? On the job? For half of half an hour, or more? Top that!

Then I sort of forgot (repressed) about it. I thought, "Hey, that'd be kind of funny to blog about but...meh!"

But then it happened again. Not at work, no that would have been too abysmally perfect. This time it was at home. And it was nowhere near fifteen minutes. But just the same. Having it happen twice was just too much not to share.

So I've shared it. My ultimate Humiliation at Work story. Plus a little bonus tidbit. For your pleasure, enjoyment, to cheer you up, or make you happier you're you and not me. Whatever the case may be, there it is. My secret shame.

Laugh. By all means, laugh. It's funny.

Just don't laugh too hard... It could happen to you! :-)

2 comments:

Mary Malcolm said...

Aww, poor Sarah. Would that I had only toilet paper to embarrass myself with. *sigh* That would be nice. *lol* Actually, seems I'm a bit of a dizzy character. Not intentional, but I don't always make the best decisions.

So one day, I'm working on MIB reports (not going into it, much too boring) with my underling Lena and I decide I need a break. So what do I do? I pull the clothes pin off my bag o' potato chips. I'm munching away as she's typing and I get to looking at that clothes pin and thinking, "Hmm, I wonder if that little groove would sit perfectly just inside my nose..."

Mighty bad idea. Apparently, if you put one side of a clothes pin just slightly inside each nostril and let the thing shut, you're just asking for trouble.

The pain was something akin to the fires of hell, or so I assume that the fires of hell feel just slightly similar to that pain.

And Lena? Well, she couldn't type for another half hour because of all the tears and snot running down her face.

So don't feel too bad. You're not alone.

Someday you'll have to ask me about the kool-aid incident, or the nair ordeal. Yeah, I feel your pain.

Sarah said...

Ha! The sad truth is I know exactly what you mean. I, too, have had a clothes pin-related-mishap. For some reason putting one in your nose in exactly the way you described is just too tempting of an idea. And who would have thought it could hurt that much?

I'll definitely remember to ask you about kool-aid. And Nair. ;)